Why Sherlock Never Gets Enough Sleep
by CAPTAINsherlockoakenshield
Summary: Whatever you were thinking based on the title, this is not a Johnlock fic. The only possible pairing is SherlockxSplashyFish...


**Hi everyone! Thanks so much for taking the time to check this out :) This is a one shot about why Sherlock never seems to get enough sleep (hence the title). Hope you enjoy, and reviews are always welcome! **

**P.S.- If I owned Sherlock, I would not give him a phone to play SplashyFish on. But I don't. Also, if I owned John Watson, I would give him lots of cuddles and warm blankets. But I don't.**

John had never heard Sherlock scream like that before. He leapt out of his bed, cursing his leg as he grabbed his gun out from where he kept it in his desk. Running down the hallway, he tightened his grip on the pistol_. Please don't let Sherlock be dead. He couldn't lose him. Not again._ John threw open the door to Sherlock's bedroom, gun cocked, body tensed, preparing for the worst.

"Sherlock!" he yelled in alarm.

"What do you _want_, John!?" Sherlock's voice responded irritably. As John's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he recognized Sherlock's form lounged on his bed, leaning against the headboard. He was cocooned in his bed sheets. John struggled to find what was wrong with the situation- it had to be an elaborate trap- mostly because it seemed so normal to him. He didn't lower the gun. Sherlock scowled, not looking at John. "Can't you see I'm busy?" It was then that John noticed the Iphone device in Sherlock's hands, which was emitting a soft glow that was occasionally muted by Sherlock's finger tapping it. He dropped the gun at his side, opening and closing his mouth at a complete loss for words. He glanced at the clock on Sherlock's nightstand. 3:17 A.M. Three _bloody_ seventeen A.M. He stammered wordlessly for a few more seconds before he spoke again.

"Why did you scream?" _He sounded like he was being murdered_. Another wave of adrenaline shot through him at the memory.

"I almost bested my high score of fourteen. Then the stupid fish ran into the pole- actually it is most akin to the Doric style columns of ancient Greece." John blinked. _Fish? _The slight movement it took for Sherlock to glance at John caused him to growl in frustration and stab the phone repeatedly with his forefinger. "No! What? Not again! BLOODY SPLASHY FISH!" John, before this, had half a mind to sigh in relief that Sherlock was alive and go back to sleep. Now he just wanted to strangle him. His hands clenched into tight fists. It was three in the morning and Sherlock was playing _splashy fish_. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before he killed his flat mate. He glared at him.

"You. Bloody. Git. Sherlock. _I thought you were being attacked!_" he whispered fiercely. Sherlock snorted in response.

"Please, John. Who would want to attack me?" John fingered his gun. He could think of a few.

"For all I knew, you could have been dead!"

"Don't be an idiot. I'm a high functioning sociopath who's too clever to be killed in his sleep. Do your research." John was preparing a retort but Sherlock had already appeared to be busy again. His finger tapped madly as he frowned in concentration. "No, c'mon...no NO NO!" Sherlock suddenly stood up on his bed and slammed the phone down on the floor as if it was a touchdown made in the last few seconds of a tied game. He produced a hand held gun from inside his bed sheets and raised it in the air dramatically.

"To hell with SPLASHY FISH!" With that, Sherlock blasted about a half-dozen shots into the phone, reducing it to splinters of plastic and microchips. John cringed.

"You know you could have just deleted the app," he said quietly.

"Yes, but it's more fun this way," Sherlock pointed to the floor, where John could hear Ms. Hudson shrieking a floor below them. "See?" John pulled his hand across his face. _Poor Ms. Hudson._ "Shut it, woman, you live here, you should be used to it by now." John sighed.

"I'm going to check on Ms. Hudson- she must be pretty shaken up by this," he said, vaguely gesturing to the door.

"Mm," Sherlock replied, staring at the remains of his device. As soon as John left the flat, Sherlock smiled, a devious light playing in his eyes. He walked into John's room and found his phone on his drawers- exactly where he knew he would find it. The password, of course, was too easy to deduce (pssoffsherlock). Within seconds, Sherlock was downloading Flappy Bird.

By morning, both of them needed new phones.


End file.
